


Bad News via Tabloids

by therunawaypen



Series: 00Q Tumblr Prompt Fills [18]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, M/M, Q is a Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:17:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therunawaypen/pseuds/therunawaypen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James had no idea why Q was so outraged at the tabloid on the coffee table. Not until Q broke down and dropped a bombshell.</p><p>"My brother wasn't a fake..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "One for OOQ: Q has the mother of all bad days and finds solace once he's home with Bond. The cause can run the map from Sherlock's "death" (I am a fan of the idea of Q being the 3rd brother) to everything just going wrong. Sweet fluff please but otherwise have fun!" --anon on Tumblr

James knew something was wrong when he heard the front door to their home shut with a slam. Q had never been one to be violent (he left that to James), so whatever had the Quartermaster in such a state couldn’t be good. With a sigh, James folded his copy of _The Sun_ and set it on the coffee table. He probably had better things to do during his recuperation than read trashy tabloids and their suicide scandals, but he had gotten bored.

By the time James stood up, Q was already in the room, “James…”

“Is everything alright?” The 00 agent took a good look at his lover. His cheeks were flushed, and his shoulders were shaking heavily, his breaths uneven.

Q shook his head, “Oh James, I—” He stopped, his eyes stuck on the coffee table. James followed his gaze to see the newspaper he had just set down. In an instant, Q was across the room, “Don’t read this _bullshit!”_

To say James was startled was an understatement, especially when Q grabbed the offending paper and began to tear it to pieces.

“Q, stop!” James grabbed what was left of the paper from the Quartermaster, “Look, I’m not sure what happened today at MI6, but I doubt the paper did anything to you.”

“It ruined everything!” Q shrieked, tearing at paper again, “Spreading all sorts of terrible lies!”

“Q, it’s a tabloid, it’s what they do.” James shook his head, grapping Q’s wrists, “One more overdramatic fraud/suicide story isn’t going to—”

“ _My brother wasn’t a fraud!”_ The raw edge of Q’s voice, the fact he had _screamed_ the statement at the top of his lungs, had nearly triggered James into checking his lover for torture wounds.

Then he saw a piece of the destroyed paper on the coffee table. It was a picture that went with the story about the fake detective’s suicide. The caption labled the man in the picture as Sherlock Holmes, the detective in question, but James noticed other things. The thick black hair in messy curls, the defined bone structure, the bright eyes… And then Q’s words caught up with him, “Oh my god…” he whispered, letting go of Q’s wrists.

A choked sound escaped Q’s throat, “ _My brother wasn’t a fake…”_ He whimpered.

James knew what was going to happen next, so he was prepared to catch Q as his knees gave out. Holding his lover close, James brought them both back to the couch, pulling Q to sit in his lap. “I had no idea, Q…I didn’t know…”

“Of course you didn’t.” Q shook his head before burying his face in James’s neck, “Family connections are not exactly encouraged in MI6…orphans make the best recruits.”

James didn’t say anything. What could he say? It was true. No family meant no liabilities, nothing to hold an operative from their assignment. But Q wasn’t a 00 agent, he wasn’t even a field operative, he was a computer genius, who worked in the center of MI6. He wasn’t trained to suppress emotions…

Q was shaking again, but, considering the wet spots forming against James’s neck, he could imagine what the Quartermaster was doing. And it destroyed James inside, to see the love of his life so broken and weak. He couldn’t imagine the pain of a loved one taking their own life…he could barely remember having loved ones…

“I’m so sorry Q…” He whispered, wrapping his arms around the smaller man.

There was a moment when Q didn’t speak. When he did, his voice was weak against James’s neck, “…I had to find out my brother was dead by seeing someone in the office reading that… _paper_ …”

That was no way to find out about a tragic death… “Good God, Q…” What the hell could he say? He could only say he was sorry so many times.

He’d read the story about Q’s brother, about the fictitious villain, false cases…though, if Q was right (which he usually was) then all of the story was a lie. Which mean Sherlock might not have taken his own life willingly.

“Q…” James started, wrapping his arms tighter around his lover, “If someone is responsible for this…if there’s foul play involved…know that I will them hunt down, I will find them. And when I do…they will suffer. I will _destroy_ them.” He turned his head, whispering in Q’s ear, “ _Just say the word.”_

Silence hung in the room. James could feel Q’s heartbeat against his chest, and the erratic rhythm of his breathing slowing until it was its usual, calm pattern.

Then Q turned his head, just enough to bring his lips to James’s ear. A single word, barely a whisper, but it was all James needed.

“ _Moriarty.”_

James nodded, rubbing Q’s back in small circles, “He’s as good as dead.”

“He’s already dead.”

The 00 agent blinked, “Did you make a pit stop on your way over?”

Q shook his head, “He committed suicide at the same place where…”

Before Q could work himself into a fit again, James cut him off, “If Moriarty is dead, then why…”

“It’s not just a man, James.” Q sighed, “It’s a crime syndicate. But it’s run more like a business than a mafia or government…It could take years to destroy it, even with a license to kill.”

James kissed Q’s tears away, “How about two? I can take Alec and we can go headhunting.”

Q scoffed quietly, “You 00’s and your violence…don’t make it too easy for them.”

“Of course not.” James shook his head, running a hand through his lover’s hair, “Anything for you, Q…”


	2. Chapter 2

It was after finding the fourth body in Madrid that James and Alec were starting to get a little frustrated.

“You know, James.” Alec muttered over the body of the recently murdered smuggler, “When you said we were going on a head hunting trip for Q, I kind of assumed that we would be the ones doing the killing.”

“So did I…” James shook his head. They had been following this particular lead in the Moriarty network for three weeks and had been planning on killing him that night. Only when they had arrived, he was already dead.

Just like all the others.

Every time they had a mark and they went in for the kill, James and Alec found that someone had beaten them to the punch.

“Not that I mind, considering we were going to kill these bastards anyway.” Alex shook his head, “But I’d like to get a kill or two in just so I don’t feel like I’m wasting my time.”

James rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Someone is cleaning up Moriarty’s network before we can…hopefully we can get the next lead Q finds for us before our mystery competition.”

* * *

 

The next lead was in Yerevan. Well, actually, the Mafioso was Russian, but had fled the country to escape detection (from MI6 or from the mystery attackers, they weren’t sure). They had cornered their target to a hotel room, and they weren’t about to let this one get away (or be killed before they could do it themselves).

It took Alec two minutes to swipe a room key and get to their target’s room, while James made sure they would not be disrupted.

But as they opened the door, they found that they were once again too late, as their target was hanging from the ceiling in what looked like a staged suicide. This was not new to them; they usually came in to find their would-be victims had already “killed themselves.”

What was surprising was the fact they were not alone in the room. There was a third man (fourth if one included the dead body) working on the forged suicide note, who turned and looked at the two 00 agents as they stormed the room.

Even if James hadn’t already seen the man’s picture, he would have recognized the thick mane of dark curls, the sharp and angular facial structure, and the lithe frame.

Mainly because it was so damn similar to Q. The only differences were the man’s towering height and the cold look in his eyes.

“Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Holmes.” James began slowly, “Or alive, for that matter.”

Holmes raised an eyebrow, “MI6, how predictable.” He shook his head, turning back to the note, “Tell me, why did my brother send his lackies when I specifically told him not to?”

Alec blinked, “I’m sorry, how did you know—”

“That you’re MI6? Why else would two well-dressed and armed British men with military, or at least combat, training be sneaking into the hotel room of the dangerous Mafioso I’ve been tracking?”

James shook his head, “And what do you mean, you told your brother not to send us? He has no idea you’re alive.”

Holmes snorted, “I doubt that, considering he helped me fake my suicide.”

“No, I don’t believe that.” James hissed, “Q was _devastated_ after he learned of your death.”

“Q? Who are you…oh.” Holmes stopped, looking back at James, “The other one, then.”

“The other one?”

“Brother.” Holmes nodded, “I do have two. Q, is it?” He hummed  nonchalantly, “Quartermaster then, I should have known that lousy story about him dying in a carcrash was more of Mycroft’s lies.” With a small flourish, the former consulting detective finished the note, “Shall we take our leave?”

The two 00 agents didn’t really know what else they could do but follow Holmes out of the hotel before the body was discovered.

James turned to look at Sherlock, “Why didn’t you tell Q that you were alive?”

“The same reason he never told me he was alive.” Sherlock scoffed, “To the rest of the world, two of the three Holmes brothers died due to tragic circumstances. Leaving Mycroft an only child, oh I’m sure he’d love that.”

Alec shook his head, “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

“Which is why you’re a hired gun, not someone with actual power.” Holmes rolled his eyes, “Mycroft is my older brother, while Siger is my younger brother.”

“And who’s Siger?” James asked.

Holmes raised an eyebrow, “Your lover, obviously. Or…did you actually not know him by anything but Q?” The genius snorted, “My, that must make sex terribly awkward.”

Alec tried to hide a laugh by faking a cough, but James glared at him anyway.

Holmes, however, continued, “But back to business. As you can see, I’m doing quite well on my own. In fact, I’m nearly finished with the European branch of Moriarty’s network. If you find yourselves bored, you’re more than welcome to check out the Asia branch.”

“So now you’re just ordering us around?” Alec frowned.

“Well, if you’d like to actually kill some people, and not come in after I’ve finished the job.”

That shut up Alec.

Sherlock sighed, “I do have one request.” He began,  looking at James, “You’re a military man, are you not, mister…”

James looked at Holmes, “Bond. James Bond.”

“Bond, then.” Holmes nodded, “I would be incredibly grateful if you would return to London to check in with my…associate.”

“Associate?”

“…Friend.”

“Friend?”

Holmes glared, “I’m afraid…he witnessed my suicide, and I fear my death will have caused him to relapse into PTSD. If you could be so kind as to see to it that he is…alright.”

“Soldier are never “alright,” but I’ll check on him.” James nodded, “Do you have a name or address for me to look him up at?”

“It’s Captain John Watson, and the address is 221b Baker Street.”


End file.
